“You won’t let it,” Estil said. Kieri saw the sparkle of tears in her eyes. “Kieri, Kieri—you are not that kind of man. You were not that kind of boy. That is why you will be a good king—are a good king already. This is all due the king’s majesty: it is meet and right, the measure of a royal house, but you will not dishonor it by thinking it is yours alone. Trust yourself, Kieri.”

“I … am not sure. When I think of how I got here …”

“It’s my fault,” Aliam said. “Those years of not knowing. If only I’d figured it out, and how to go at proving it—”

They had been over that before; Aliam had fallen at his feet, begging forgiveness, when he first arrived. Kieri shook his head. “It is not your fault. I told you, Estil’s told you—if your king and your wife can’t convince you, who can?”

Aliam smiled, but the smile touched only his lips; his eyes were still sad. “If you will quit thinking you aren’t worthy of this, Kieri, it will ease my mind considerably.”

“At least you aren’t calling me Sir King every moment,” Kieri said. “The day you quit calling me Kieri—at least in private—I’ll really worry.”

“We must go soon,” Aliam said. “I can’t leave the Company to themselves for too long …”

“Are you going south this year?” Kieri asked.

“Not me,” Aliam said. “I might send Cal in my stead, but he’s taken over much of the work at home. We have potential contracts—but I’m getting old to go back and forth over the mountains.”

“You are not old,” Estil said, punching him lightly. “You are fat and not taking enough exercise, that is all.”

“We can take care of that,” Kieri said, grinning. “At least while you’re here. You should see the royal salle—in fact, come with me now—”

Kaelith, one of the King’s Squires, stood duty at the door to the suite, and led the way to the royal salle, but on the way they were interrupted by Sier Halveric.

“My pardon, Sir King, but I thought you would wish to know—now that the stables are no longer full of guests’ horses, the royal mounts have been brought in, including those gifts given at your coronation. Master of Horse would like your word on which to keep at hand.”

“We should go today,” Aliam said. “I’m sure we’re taking up stalls you’ll need.”

“Not to worry, Aliam,” his brother said. “I moved your mounts to my own yard.”

“Stay, Aliam,” Kieri said. “You’ve always had a good eye for horseflesh; you can help me choose.”

The royal mews rang with the sound of hooves and whinnies; Sier Halveric introduced the Master of Horse, Sir Ganeth, a lean man Kieri could just remember bowing over his hand during earlier ceremonies. He wore the ruby of a Knight of Falk on his collar.

“Sir King, I know you have heard comments about the color of our horses—and as you are half-elven, it is important for you to understand that the two have different preferences in color. Do you yourself?”